"Well, he didn't show up in the store today. This is strange. I am expecting this guy, Lindstrom, or whoever he is, to show up here again. I am almost looking forward to seeing him. I am obsessed with Lindstrom. I am in love with him. Harriet, you are one sick woman. This guy wants to do me harm, and whatever he tried to start back in the day when I was still working as Cassandra, he clearly wants to finish the work. I want to know what he wants. I don't know, but the other night, not last night but the night before when I was naked with him in the forest, there were other people there. I am sure I saw people, but I can't furnish any details, they were like shadows or ghosts, and then to wake up with my head against a log and fully clothed again and cold and damp from sleeping out all night, and no sign of anything different or unusual. Maybe this guy doesn't even exist, he is just a fantasy, a hallucination that I am projecting because I really need a man, but really I don't need a man.
I have been enjoying being celibate, not working, since for me, sex is always work and vice versa, and for helping me get out of that scene I have Jim to thank, and to thank him many times over..."
There is a loud meowing at the door. Carl gets up and lets the orange cat in. The cat explores the room sniffing in corners, and seems rather agitated. He meows again, plaintively. Carl picks him up, but the cat jumps from his arms onto the window sill, where he decides to stay for a while, sitting on his haunches and staring out the window, his tail twitching nervously at the tip...
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